3:24 A.M.

Welcome to my second life
The beautiful stretch between the hours of 2 and 5 a.m.
In which you sleep next to me and I am afforded the freedom to write write write
With the furious passion that I have kept from you and saved for scorching every last letter upon this page
Fingers slower than my lightning brain
Which rolls in likes waves and pulls at grains as a flat surface altered forever in this littered landscape
The garbage to go out with the salt
Leaving the residue behind for your judgment
It is here in this bed that I have died a thousand deaths of self-doubt
Envy
Regret
and longing
Wishing I could be like those who came before me
And you missing every single one
Here are my tiny miracles
Where once there was nothing but a blank page
This now sits
It is the smallest thing
But it is a world unto itself
While the sounds of my typing go fleeting away
My marks will stay put

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